


Rose

by justbygrace



Series: Reimagining 'Rose' [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9344378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: "She has been working here long enough to spot his type a mile away, irritable, probably brooding, suffering a loss of some type, wrapped in a leather jacket like a security blanket, just a typical Friday night for her really."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first 'Rose' reimagined I wrote - it got me hooked

She has been working here long enough to spot his type a mile away, irritable, probably brooding, suffering a loss of some type, wrapped in a leather jacket like a security blanket, just a typical Friday night for her really. She doesn't get paid to make the customers smile, just to ply them with alcohol, but she can't help it, grinning and teasing and flirting, searching for a spark of light in their eyes, giving them some hope that there is still life to be experienced. And this one's no different, or maybe he is, she can't tell yet. 

He came here to drink and forget. Forget that his life has fallen apart. Forget that he's lost everything in the space of nine months. He's spent hours, months, weeks, driving aimlessly. This place, badly lit, out of the way, incongruously named Henrik's, is just another stop on the way to drowning himself in alcohol. If he's very lucky the process will be fast and relatively painless. If he isn't, he'll probably wake up in a puddle of his own vomit in the back alley; it's happened before, it'll probably happen again. 

The way he's downing shots has her concerned. She's definitely seen people working to forget, but this is taking things to whole new levels. She considers the best way to cut him off without inciting his rage and without alerting her manager, he's still a paying customer after all and Jimmy could give a shit less about alcohol poisoning. Thankfully the bar is relatively empty and she starts mixing his shots with water and praying he's too far gone to notice. She keeps up a steady stream of chatter, not entirely sure what she's saying or why she cares what happens to him.

It isn't until way past the usual point of blackout that he realizes that something is wrong, he's too clearheaded, too aware of his surroundings. He can feel the telltale edges of anger, but they are wrapped in layers of exhaustion and he just can't reach them, not tonight. His newest drink lands on the counter before him and he studies the hand holding it, slim, feminine, covered in beaded rings before allowing his gaze to follow the hand up the wrist, the sleeve of a grey and pink jacket, and come to rest on her face. Her features are young, but her eyes tell a different story and a spark of interest catches him off guard, he can't remember the last time he cared about anything, but he finds himself suddenly wanting to know everything about her.

She always used to make fun of woman who talked about drowning in a man's eyes, but she suddenly knows the feeling, the desire to tip over the abyss and fall into their depths. She shakes herself out of it and gives him a smile, albeit a bit of a shaky one, and watches him down his shot. His eyebrows rise impossibly high and she worries he'll say something, but he merely shakes his head and holds out his glass wordlessly, inclining his head towards the sink. When she swaps it out with a full-sized glass of water, his lips twitch just the slightest and she has to remind herself how to breathe again before lapsing into a story about vacation plans she doesn't have.

He listens to her chatter with half an ear, content to sip his water and watch her, a whirlwind of motion, filling orders and wiping down the counter and washing glasses, a blur of pink and yellow. He wonders what she's doing working at a place like this, she deserves to be where people can see her and appreciate her, not in a dark and dirty pub under neon lights and the cloying smell of smoke. After a bit he becomes aware that the man at the other end of the bar is watching her as intently as he is and he is startled by the sudden flare of jealousy. He switches his attention to this new bloke, skinny, hair slicked back, torn shirt, he is not impressed, but it is the man's eyes, cold and calculating that have him speaking before he can think. He asks when she gets off and watches a blush hit her cheeks, he doesn't miss the glance she throws towards the other man, and she tells him another hour. That's fine, he can wait. 

Fifteen minutes later he leaves the bar and, though she can feel the sharp sting of regret, she isn't surprised. After all, what is she? No A-Levels, no degree, just a dead end job in a bar with a man who is as likely to hit as he is to kiss, and a background in hard knocks and just getting by, nothing that could appeal to this man; she saw that leather jacket, easily worth a month's pay. She sighs and goes back to washing up, no use wishing for fairy tale endings she'll never get. It takes her another ten minutes to realize Jimmy is gone too and she panics, there is no way he missed the way she looked at the man, and Jimmy's possessive streak is wider than the Thames. She hits the back alley at a dead run and cries out when she sees Jimmy rear back and level a punch, it doesn't look like the first time and not stopping to think, she grabs a rod off the ground and swings it at Jimmy and watches him crumple before racing to the other man's side.

He slowly comes back to consciousness, vaguely aware his head is being cradled and there is a cloth pressed to one eye. He squints open the other, takes in a wave of blonde hair and anxious brown eyes. He opens and shuts his mouth several times before settling on a smile, a foreign pull of the lips he's uncertain is even recognizable, but he relieved to see the worry recede slightly from her eyes. He tries again to speak, a joke about possessive boyfriends and how easy they are to take care of. She leans back, gives him a self-satisfied smirk and tells him how useless he was and how he'd be dead if it wasn't for her. He doesn't have a joke for that, it's true, more than she knows, and he thanks her, the first really genuine thing he's said in ages and he can only stare at her, trying to wrap his brain on how this girl, this woman, could breach defenses in hours that he's been building for years. For the second time that night he speaks without thinking, asking her to travel with him. It's a stupid thing to say and he watches her avert her eyes and he knows the answer before she gives it.

She watches him struggle to his feet, his eyes closing off and she wishes she knew what to say, how to make that light shine again. It's not that she doesn't want to go with him, she does, more than anything, but she has a job (well, maybe), obligations, her family, she can't just go swanning off with some strange bloke on a whim. He's standing then, giving her a tight smile, and turning away. She watches him go, turn the corner, and then she can hear the distant noise of a car door slam. From behind her there is the unmistakable sound of Jimmy starting to come round and reality is crashing down, it's brute force leaving her breathless. Headlights suddenly sweep the alley and she spins around, watches an old blue car pull in and idle, the window rolling down and she can hear his voice through the night: "Did I mention we can go anywhere?" She laughs, her joy echoing off the brick walls, before running flat out towards the car.


End file.
